


Comfort

by Impala_Dreamer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, NSFW, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 09:13:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16930491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Dreamer/pseuds/Impala_Dreamer
Summary: ~After a tough hunt, Sam lets Dean take care of him, and the brothers find comfort in each other’s arms.~





	Comfort

It wasn’t something that happened often. In fact, it had been a few years, if Dean remembered correctly.

It wasn’t something that either man thought of often, if ever, but on nights like this, after the fight was done, after the pain had subsided and the terror of almost losing each other had passed, it seemed right. Maybe it was wrong, maybe it was a thousand little mistakes rolled into one, but when they lay together, tangled in the dark, it was everything they were missing.

Sam was hurt. Blood poured from his nose, his lip, the gash in his arm. Surely it pooled under his ribs where the bruises began to show, deep purple and black spreading out underneath his skin. He’d been knocked out again, sent flying into a brick wall during the battle; the monsters laughing as he slid down to the floor before turning their wrath towards Dean.

The elder Winchester had taken them out quickly but not without sustaining a bit of damage himself; after all, he wasn’t twenty-six anymore, and moved just a little slower than he used to. Still he’d managed to end the fight with a few well timed thrusts of the demon blade; the abused meat suits sparking gold and orange before collapsing, empty to the ground.

Dean collected his brother from the cold cement and shook him awake, sighing in relief when his hazel eyes fluttered open.

“Dean?” Sam gasped, taking in a lungful of air, his hand reaching up to grip the collar of Dean’s green canvas jacket.

Dean smiled and helped him up, slipping Sam’s arm around his shoulder. “There you go, I gotcha.” He patted Sam’s chest as the younger man blinked, trying to steady himself. As many times as he’d done it, waking from unconsciousness, how ever brief, was never pleasant. It helped him to feel Dean nearby, to feel his hands on him, helping him realize he was back to reality.

That’d always been the way with them. They sat close, stood close, talked close; for no other reason than needing the comfort of the one person who would always be there. No matter what they’d been through, it always came down to the two of them, and the touches and hugs let them know it was real. Hell could nip at their heels, devils dance around their minds, but as long as Sam’s fingers could grip Dean’s shoulders and pull him close, they knew they were all right.

 

Sam lay on the questionably clean motel bed, naked but for his pale blue boxers. His arm and chin were caked with blood in various shades of red. The bright crimson of the fresh seepage mixed with burnt sienna underneath where the first flood had already dried.

Dean had stitched Sam’s wound quickly and carefully, disinfecting it with whiskey before taking a few gulps himself. Sam watched Dean’s fingers fly over his torn skin, deftly mending the red flesh like he’d done a thousand times. He focused on Dean’s hands and let the touch of his rough fingertips distract him from the pain. So much care, always. Dean kept Sam safe. And failing that, he did all that he could to fix him. No matter what, Dean was always there.

Still sore and exhausted, Sam let his brother clean him up, something pride would usually lead him to do himself. But tonight felt like one of those nights when he was too tired to care, when he could let himself be tended to; give himself a break from his self-sacrificing ways and let Dean do what he did best.

The warm washcloth passed over his tender skin, clearing away the drops of blood that remained. Sam winced as the water stung him. Dean leaned down, pursing his lips and blowing gently over the cut; his breath soothing the pain. Sam stared at him with wide eyes, watching as his lips parted, counting the thick lashes of his closed eyes, following every line and crack on his brother’s face. Dean opened his eyes as he pulled back and smiled, blushing under Sam’s adoring gaze. He dipped the washcloth in the bowl of water on the nightstand and wrung it out, bringing it to Sam’s face, gently pressing it to his busted lip. Sam’s heart raced even as he relaxed in the calming warmth pulsing from Dean’s hand. Very slowly he lifted his hand, brushing his fingertips over Dean’s temple and down across his jaw. It was barely a touch, just a sweeping pass of skin on skin, but Dean closed his eyes, his head tilting slightly towards Sam’s hand, letting him know it was OK.

The cloth fell silently onto the mattress as Dean lowered his hand, sighing deeply as Sam cupped his cheek, his fingers gently pulling him down. Dean pressed his forehead against Sam’s, taking a moment to breath him in; the sweat and heat filling his senses. Without a word, their lips met, pressing together in a forbidden but needed kiss. Sam’s tongue swept of Dean’s bottom lip, and he shivered, opening his mouth to accept the pulsing muscle, letting the desire rise within him. Dean came to life; his hands rising to pass over Sam’s thick neck and rest tangled in his soft hair. His nails scratched against his scalp, pulling a desperate moan from Sam’s throat. Dean shifted on the bed, moving closer without breaking the kiss, and climbed over him, pressing his thigh between Sam’s legs, spreading them as he pushed against his growing erection.

Sam pulled at Dean’s shirt, his fingers tugging at the black cotton. He tried to sit up, to push Dean off so he could rip the barrier away, but the pain in his ribs pulled him back down against the pillows. Dean moved back and stripped away his shirt, tossing it onto the floor quickly, looking down at Sam with darkened eyes. Sam ran his hands down over Dean’s freshly exposed chest, his fingers passing over the smooth expanse with possessive wonder. Skin covering strong muscles, caging the heart and soul that had always been there for him; the only constant in his whole life, the body that protected him, loved him, kept him going.

Dean returned to him, his lips attacking Sam’s with a tender force that sent chills over his skin. Dean kissed away the pain, the worry, the fear. Down across his scratchy jaw, passing over his throbbing pulse, licking and sucking his way down Sam’s firm chest, as his hands massaged sore muscles, relaxing the ache and building up a new one. Dean sank down his body, silently worshiping every inch of tanned skin as Sam floated above him, lost to the passion; not a thought in his mind but Dean, tracking his lips with closed eyes as Dean slowly pulled his boxers away.

His head fell back, pressing into the pillow. He moaned loudly as Dean’s burning mouth wrapped around his cock, the blood rushing to meet his lips until he was almost painfully hard. Sam gripped the sheets, desperate for something to cling to as Dean pressed wet fingers against his tight hole, stretching him gently, pumping in and out as his tongue swirled around Sam’s swollen head.

Hungry whimpers fell from Sam’s lips, echoing in the quiet room. His body tensed and shivered as Dean worked him open, and soon he was bucking his hips against Dean’s mouth, totally undone.

“Dean,” his voice was low, dripping with need as he lifted his head to meet emerald eyes looking back at him. “I need you.”

Dean sat back slowly, climbing off of the bed to remove his clothing. Sam watched greedily as Dean stripped, his chest heaving with each breath, memorizing every movement, every twitch of every muscle as Dean moved; these moments were rare and sacred, and Sam relished each second.

Dean moved slowly at first, mindful of Sam’s bruised ribs, easing into place while his lips took his mouth again. Sam’s arms wrapped tightly around Dean’s neck, seeking the heat and weight of his body against his own. The bed rocked as they moved together, in sync as always, their breathless cries filling the air.

Dean’s thick fingers wrapped around Sam’s cock as his hips thrust against him and Sam let go, spilling his hot release between them, coating their stomachs in opaque white. Sam dug his fingers into Dean’s hard shoulders, his nails leaving long crescents of red as Dean stuttered, grunting heavily as he came.

The discarded washcloth found use again as Sam wiped away their sins, laying soft kisses on Dean’s chest as his hands moved over his stomach. They lay quietly in the dim light, hearts pounding as their breathing slowed. Sam turned carefully onto his side, sighing peacefully as he felt Dean curl up behind him, his arm draped gently over Sam’s waist. The air cooled their skin as they rested, and Dean pulled the blanket up over them, covering their nakedness and locking in the comforting heat of their entangled bodies.

They slept soundly that night, perhaps for the first time in a long time; dreams of demons and world-ending events pushed away until morning. Tonight they had all they needed, all they ever had: the safety and comfort of each other’s arms.


End file.
